


Soul de deux

by phantomas (sil)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: Gen, mentions of Willow and Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 11:06:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11057667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sil/pseuds/phantomas
Summary: "You cut their head off?""A stake through the heart? Seriously?"They ask at the same time as the vampire's head rolls to one side and the body folds on itself on the floor.





	Soul de deux

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eternal Scribe (Shadowcat)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowcat/gifts).



Buffy doesn't have one night stands. Not really. Okay, there was that one time...and that other, but that turned into something completely different (but that's a whole other story). So, no. No one night stands, for Buffy.

And yet.

In this moment, as she pushes the stake as deep as she can, as she feels her muscles vibrate and tense and solidify in the moment of the kill, and her eyes lock with his eyes - _she can see the wide machete blade slashing through the neck's tendons, the blood spilling, the vampire's head starting to slide on one side, showing the guy on the other side, the guy that is killing HER vampire, just as she is killing it, she can see all of this, all happening at the same time, but his eyes, his eyes are what she focuses on, as they widen slightly, as the splashes of blood impact his skin and he realizes she is there, too, smaller, hidden by the vampire body dying between them._

_Something._

_As if her very soul is shivering._

"You cut their head off?" "A stake through the heart? Seriously?" They ask at the same time as the vampire's head rolls to one side and the body folds on itself on the floor.

Buffy crosses her arms, stares at him. Her neck protests at the angle she has to bend it to look up. He's damn tall. "And who would you be?" she asks. Obviously, he's no Slayer.

Dean Winchester takes his time, running his forearm against the side of his face to get some of the blood away. Blood is thick and sticky and he'll never get used to it. Hopes he doesn't get used to it.

"I'm Dean," he says. "Look, this kind of stuff isn't- it's not a game, okay?" As the words leave his mouth, he hears how patronising they sound. He knows way better than letting first impressions dictate his judgement. He's very aware of having been wrong before. Many, many times. Each mistake and failure are scratched deep inside of him. She may be on the small side, but definitely exudes confidence. Hardness. _Something_. Something he can't pinpoint.

"Want a beer?" he asks.

"Beer bad," she half-smiles.

"Uh?"

"Sure, why not?" Buffy says, shaking her head on her old, private joke. "I know a place."

 

###

 

"So, you and your brother? Hunters." Buffy stretches her legs under the table. The bar is quiet, which is a blessing after the long day she has had, a trio on the little stage singing something from another age in the background - ... _I ain't got to worry my girl's got my back, when I get low I get high... -_ , some guys playing a card game in the back. Dean has described a world that, simply, it's not hers. The Rules are different. But. The Rules have changed once already - _she_ has changed them. Stranger things have happened. This is just one more coming her way. As always.

Dean nods. His fingers are wrapped around his whiskey tumbler - they have moved on from beer a while ago. "We have saved the world a fair few times, between us," he means her and himself, and nods toward her.

"Yes, yes we have, apparently. And died a few times, too."

"You can say that again, sister." Dean lifts his tumbler to her and knocks the amber liquid down his throat. The term comes easily to him. And it means more than that. He _knows_ her. He _does_. Even if they have never met before, and they have made sure, talking for hours, comparing dates and apocalypses, demons and curses, dimensions and hells. Their worlds are different and yet, the same. They talk about each other and themselves. People they loved. People they lost. Those they found.

The monsters they've both met. The monsters within. Then they are silent, as the bar calls for the last drinks, and the other customers prepare to leave.

"I've got a room at the Sides Motel," Buffy says. She's offering. Bluntly. Not even smiling, just looking at him, blowing a strand of hair off her face. And her soul shivers again, waiting for an answer to a question she didn't know she was going to ask. No conscious thought about why. Just. Holding on to _this_. Whatever this is.

"Compare strategies and all that?" Dean's voice dances around the words, innuendos sparkling in his eyes. He's been here before. And he's tired, suddenly, so tired. Weight of the world on his shoulders and all that. "Sure." They get up, pushing their chairs back in the same smooth movement. They've paid for drinks already, taking turns. They walk out in silence, a fresh chill coming from the night breeze once they're out the warm bar smelling of dust and humanity.

Out in the car park, he introduces her to his baby. She says, well, it's a car, and he launches into explaining the when's and where's and whys that's just wrong, and how there is so much more to the Impala than four solid wheels and a shiny exterior. He shows her the scratches, the names, the symbols. Like war scars. They stop at a Drive Thru, get burgers, colas, milk shakes. And pie. They both love pie. They listen to music as Dean drives them. Buffy rummages through the tapes, tries one after the other.

Once in the motel room, once the door is closed and the curtains shut, and Buffy sits on the side of the bed and looks at him, once there. Dean just sits on the bed opposite, and they look at each other. After a long pause, Dean finally says: "I'm- usually not shy, about this." His hand gestures between them. He chuckles quietly, at himself mostly.

"Yeah," Buffy murmurs. "All this world saving. Not much time for anything else, right? One can get rusty."

They look at each other, burst out laughing at the image evoked by the words. "Gods," Dean says, then lies down on his bed, still laughing. Buffy lies down on her bed, turns on her side to look at him. Kicks her shoes off. The space between the twin motel beds is not much, seems inconsequential. In the darkness, thanks to the light filtering from the sides of the curtains, she can see Dean's profile.

"Tell me more about your brother," she asks. And he does. He tells her about all the stories, the sad ones and the happy ones. About that time Sam lost his shoe. About the time he was possessed by Lucifer. About all the other times. When they saved each other. When were they were apart.

Night moves forward. And they talk in the dark. At some point, Dean turns on his side, too, extends an arm towards Buffy, and she does the same, and their fingers brush, and they let it happen.

"Sometimes I feel like a monster," she murmurs.

"Me too," Dean says, later on.

 

###

 

Buffy doesn't do one night stands. When she wakes up, the cheap motel blanket is laid over her, and Dean is not in the room. He's left his machete, on the bedside table. 'In case you meet one of mine' his note says. Buffy smiles and hides it under her long leather coat. She glances at the room one last time, at the two beds.

Something feels-... unfinished.

 _Something_.

Her phone rings, Willow's name bopping urgently on the screen. There's always something. Slaying is not a boring life, for sure, even with all the help she has now.

 _Dean Winchester._ They didn't exchange numbers. Didn't seem necessary. She'll need to brief the others on what he's told her. She doesn't doubt it's true, but the way in which it all fits in with what she knows, that's still to figure out.

 

###

 

" _Say the name_."

The demons are all around him, pressing on all sides, oily hungry claws dripping with flesh and spit. Dean clenches his jaw, keeping himself focused, centred. It all depends on him, now. Once again. He needs to choose. It has all come down to this moment, once again. A moment like others before, and yet unique. This one moment, this one choice.

The monsters are gnawing on him, already, getting to his bones. It's not happening, and yet it's happening. The pain is within, strips of his soul being torn slowly. He can feel the tears making their way on his cheeks, slowly.

_"Say the name."_

The injunction, request, order comes from all around him. An evil primordial that has no name, and never will. An evil unfamiliar, that laughs and cries at the same time, howls in the wind, swings and turns on itself.

The world in front of him is fading away, his world, his family, and that Other World is opening  its doors to him.

"Your brother." The evil whispers in his mind. "Your brother," it repeats. "Your bond is strong," it murmurs inside Dean's mind. But Dean knows he can't say the word, he can't drag his brother into that Other World, _take me_ , he screams silently, _take me, I will do it, I will walk in those lands, I will be your weapon, I will slay your enemies, Just. Take. Me. I will do it. Alone._

" _No_ ," the answer is like a slap, a thunder in Dean's face. He has to close his eyes. " _NO!"_

"WE NEED MORE! NOT JUST ONE! NOT ENOUGH!"

Someone, somewhere drew the wrong sigils. Uttered the wrong curse. Opened the wrong portal.  Offended the wrong deity. So many ways to misstep. Now Dean has to make it right or the world as he knows it, the world he has fought for practically all his life to keep safe and innocent, the world that has taken away all chances to live a normal life, this world, will be no more.

All the lay-lines are burning, the mystical places are crumbling, tumbling, and all the sensitives are calling it, the End of the World, the Great Cancer is Coming.

But Dean can't do it. Oh, he can sacrifice himself, he's done it ten times over, kissed the right demon, made his last pact. But he can't take someone else with him. He can't bound anyone to the life this Last Prime Sumerian Evil is showing him. And least of all Sam. 

Dean can't do it. This choice. His arms are wrapped around his torso, holding himself, holding his heart together.  Only a strong bond will survive That Other World, and what must be done in it. But he can't destroy his brother. He can't NOT save the world. He's kneeling and howling and being torn apart. There is no Salvation, this time. No special angel is going to grip him away from Perdition, no king of hell is going to trick their enemy and bring him a secret weapon, a sacred weapon, to save them all. Sam is not going to kick in the door to this hellish place and save Dean's ass. They are all suspended in a deep silence, still as stone, not dead and not alive, all waiting for Dean to save them. For Dean's now cold, cold heart to finally shatter in pain as he makes a choice.

A ringing bell echoes in the distance, in this plane and dimension in between all other planes and dimensions. This Hell like no other before. Or after.

 _Now, Buffy. I can't hold it for long._ A woman's voice, over the demons spluttering and creeping. A tone of urgency. A powerful witch's incantation murmured all around. _Now._ Thunder and lightning.

Buffy appears beside Dean from a thick fog. She kneels with him, cups his face in her hands, forces him to open his eyes.

"Chose me, Dean," she says. And smiles a little.

"How did you-" he asks, his eyes widening when he sees Buffy. It's been years.

"An Evil this powerful? And, frankly, so gross? It's turned everything upside down and inside out. Willow, my friend, remember I told you about her? Anyway, she's brilliant, and she thought, if we could locate the origin source and- okay, too long to explain. Just. Chose me, Dean. It's okay. You know, once, I said  I’m the thing that monsters have nightmares about. Right now, you and me can go kick this monster's monsters' ass. And save the world. What do you say?"

The demons' voices hurling in Dean's mind quieten down in a whisper. Everything stands still. He can save Sam. And the world. He glances at the open portal, the horrors waiting on the other side.

"Are you sure? This is not going to be easy."

"Is it ever?" Buffy asks him. She places a hand on his chest. "I knew there was something special, about you.  Us. When we first met. Didn't you?"

Dean covers her hand with his. "Something. Yes. I felt it."

"Maybe it was gonna be this way all along." Buffy says.

"Together?" Dean asks. Time is starting to tick faster, again, moving onwards, relentlessly. Like the blood rushing in his veins. Like the glimmer of hope burning low in his heart.

"Together," Buffy nods, and they both get up.

" _CHOOSE_ ," the roar envelops them, makes them stagger. They hold hands.

"I choose her," Dean screams in the demonic winds. Sam will be safe. Sam will be here, looking for a way to Get Dean Back. As always. The World will be safe. And Buffy's friends, too. They will be out here, fighting to get her back, as well.

"Ready to die?" Dean turns to Buffy, gun in his one hand and knife in the other.

Buffy smiles, taking a fighting stance. "Die and save the world. Been there, done that."

"We're stuck together, now. Forever." He needs to make sure. Feels the responsibility of the choice, no matter how willing Buffy is to tie her soul to his. For no reason, or all the reasons.

"Seen worse, been through worse," it's her reply. "Did I tell you about that time we all started singing?"

Dean's cheeky grin lightens up his face. "I see your musical, and give you animated Scooby Doo."

They both smile. And step through the portal, together. The Bond holds.

And the world is saved, one more time.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope it works! I wish I had more time/less life drama - had so many ideas for this!  
> Also, I suck at summaries. And whether they had sex or not, up to the reader to pick their preference.


End file.
